Chapter 51 -

Chapter 51: Chapter

Grandmaster Zhang knelt on the floor next to Zhengyu and set his warm lantern down. He used two rough, experienced fingers to press hard on different spots along Zhengyu’s silent legs.

Zhengyu did not move. He sat straight against the wall, his jaw tight, staring at Yimei with a cold, quiet look that promised revenge later. But as the old man touched his legs, Zhengyu kept his breathing slow and steady. He played his part well, letting his cold silence look like a poor husband who was too proud and ashamed to talk.

Grandmaster Zhang narrowed his eyes. He pressed harder near Zhengyu’s knee, then moved his hands slowly up toward his hip. The old doctor made a quiet, thoughtful sound.

"The bones are not broken," the grandmaster said softly, talking like a real medical expert. "The blood and energy cannot flow through here. This is an old, deep injury. Simple medicine will not work."

Old Madame Zhang gasped softly behind him. "Can you fix him, old man?"

Grandmaster Zhang stopped and pulled his hands back into his big sleeves. He stood up slowly and looked down at Zhengyu, then over at Yimei, who watched him with wide, teary eyes.

"I stopped treating rich, arrogant people years ago," Grandmaster Zhang said quietly, his voice turning gentle as he looked at their torn, dirty clothes. "The rich think money buys everything. But a poor wife who drags her husband through a freezing snowstorm on her own back... that is a life worth saving."

He turned to his son. "A-Cheng, carry him to the guest room near the fire. Get my silver acupuncture needles from my study and boil some hot herbal tea."

"Yes, Father," A-Cheng answered, stepping forward to lift Zhengyu again.

As A-Cheng picked him up, Zhengyu looked at Yimei one last time. His dark eyes simply promised her that once his legs were fixed, she would pay for everything she had done to him.

Yimei bowed her head low so no one could see the cold, victorious smile on her face.

The first part is done, Yimei thought, watching A-Cheng carry her silent, angry husband down the warm hallway. Now, the treatment can finally begin.

Old Madame Zhang gently touched Yimei’s shoulder, her eyes full of warmth and concern.

"Come along with me, child," the old woman said softly, gesturing toward a door at the side of the main room. "Your clothes are soaked through, and you will catch a death of cold if you stay in them. Let us get you into something warm and dry."

Yimei offered a small, grateful nod, keeping her head low as she followed the old woman into a small, cozy side room.

The room was filled with the soft scent of dried lavender and clean cotton. Stacks of neatly folded clothes rested on a wooden chest, alongside a basin of steaming water and a clean towel. Old Madame Zhang walked over to the chest and pulled out a soft, padded blue tunic and a pair of simple cotton trousers.

"These belonged to my daughter before she moved to the city," Madame Zhang said gently, handing the dry clothes to Yimei. "They might be a little loose on you, but they will keep you warm. Wash the blood from your arm and change. Take your time, my dear."

"Thank you, Elder," Yimei said, her voice small and filled with convincing emotion. "You are too kind to us."

"Nonsense," the old woman smiled softly, patting Yimei’s hand before stepping out and closing the door to give her privacy.

Once the door clicked shut, the helpless, tearful look vanished from Yimei’s face. Her expression turned instantly cool and calculating.

She walked over to the washbasin, dipped a cloth into the warm water, and gently wiped the dark blood and mud from her skin. Cleaning her arm, she bandaged the shallow cut properly. She quickly stripped off the damp, torn peasant dress and pulled on the clean blue tunic, tying the cloth belt firmly around her waist.

Standing in the quiet room, Yimei looked down at her clean hands and smiled faintly. Everything was falling perfectly into place.

[Host, Target Bai Zhengyu is currently in the guest room,] Nine’s voice chimed softly in her mind. [Grandmaster Zhang is preparing his silver needles. Target’s hostility remains high, but he is complying with the examination.]

Good, Yimei replied mentally, smoothing down her new sleeves. Let him comply. He has no choice anyway.

Adjusting her hair into a simple knot, she opened the door and stepped back out into the hallway, ready to play her next role.

Zhengyu’s hand shot up like a striking viper, his fingers locking around Yimei’s throat. He didn’t squeeze hard enough to crush her windpipe, but his grip was firm and cold.

"Get off me," Zhengyu growled in a low, dangerous whisper that barely rustled the quiet room. His dark eyes burned into hers with pure, concentrated fury. "What game are you playing now, An Yimei? Do you think I won’t strangle you where you lie?"

Yimei didn’t flinch. She didn’t struggle against his hand on her neck. Instead, she leaned down even closer, her warm breath brushing against his ear as a small, mocking smile touched her lips.

"Go ahead," Yimei whispered back, her voice light and fearless. "Scream. Wrap your fingers tighter. Wake up Grandmaster Zhang and his son. Tell them you are the high and mighty Young Master Bai."

Zhengyu’s jaw clenched so hard a muscle twitched in his cheek.

"Tell them I dragged you through a blizzard, staged a bandit attack, and stripped off your fine silk robes," Yimei continued, resting her hand lightly over his heart, feeling its rapid, angry thump. "Do you think the old man will heal you once he realizes you lied to him? Or will he throw us both into the snow for making a fool of his kindness?"

Zhengyu stared up at her, his breathing heavy and tight. He hated that she was right. If he exposed her lie now, Grandmaster Zhang’s 100% hostility toward nobles would trigger immediately. The old physician would slam his doors shut, and his only chance to walk again would vanish forever.

Slowly, reluctantly, Zhengyu unclasped his fingers from her throat, shoving her shoulder back slightly. "You are insane," he hissed, his voice cold as ice. "Using me... forcing me to play the part of a crippled peasant husband."

"I am giving you your legs back," Yimei corrected smoothly, sitting back on her heels beside his mat, completely unbothered by his glare. "You just have to play along for a few weeks, A-Li."

Hearing that ridiculous fake name again made Zhengyu’s eyes narrow into dangerous slits. "When this is over, Yimei... when I can stand on my own two feet again... I will make you pay for every single humiliation."

Faint footsteps echoed down the quiet hallway, getting closer to the guest room with every second. Someone was coming.

Zhengyu’s eyes widened in the dark. With his fingers still around Yimei’s throat, he acted on instinct. Before she could pull away, he pulled her body down hard against his chest.

His other hand grabbed the back of her neck, pulling her face down and pressing his lips firmly against hers.

Yimei’s eyes went wide with shock. His kiss was cold. He held her close just as the paper door creaked open.

Warm yellow light from a small lantern spilled across the floor.

Grandmaster Zhang stood at the door, holding a steaming bowl of hot medicine. The old doctor froze, his eyebrows raised as he saw the young couple holding each other on the floor in the dark.

To the grandmaster, it looked like a loving, desperate young couple holding each other tight after almost dying in the snowstorm.

Grandmaster Zhang cleared his throat awkwardly and looked away.

"Ahem," the old man said softly. "I brought some hot tea to help his legs... but it looks like I came at a bad time."

Zhengyu slowly pulled back, his breath heavy against Yimei’s face. He kept his arm wrapped tight around her waist, looking over at the doctor with a proud, embarrassed glare, playing the role of a protective peasant husband perfectly.

Yimei quickly backed off his chest, her face turning red as she covered her eyes, acting completely embarrassed.

"Forgive us, Elder!" Yimei whispered, her voice trembling. "I... I was just checking on my husband..."

Grandmaster Zhang set the hot bowl down near the door with a small, gentle laugh.

"You do not need to apologize, child," the grandmaster said warmly. "Just make sure he drinks the tea before it gets cold, and get some rest. We start the treatment at sunrise."

"Thank you, Grandmaster," Yimei said, bowing her head low.

The old doctor stepped back and slid the wooden door shut. The moment his footsteps faded down the hall, all the fake romance in the room instantly disappeared.

Yimei sat up, wiping her lips with her sleeve. She looked down at Zhengyu with a cold, amused smile.

[DING!] Nine’s voice chimed inside her head. [Grandmaster Zhang trusts you completely now! Mission success!]

Zhengyu lay back on his mat, his jaw tight as he stared at the ceiling, his heart still beating fast.

"If you ever force me into a corner like that again," Zhengyu whispered in a dark, dangerous voice, "you will regret it."

"You did what you had to do to save our lie, husband," Yimei whispered back, placing the warm tea bowl right beside his hand. She gave him a sweet, mocking smile in the moonlight. "And you played your part very well."